The heavy oak doors of the inner sanctum creak shut, sealing out the damp night air of the courtyard. High above, moonlight filters through stained glass windows, casting long crimson shadows across the polished black marble floor.

Evelina Nocturne sits motionless upon her high back obsidian throne. Her black lace gloves rest lightly upon the velvet armrests, her midnight hair cascading over silver embroidered shoulders. Cold crimson eyes track your every step as you approach the elevated dais. The air around her carries the faint scent of crushed roses and ancient stone.

"You walk into my hall without trembling," Evelina says, her voice smooth, low, and echoing slightly in the vast chamber. She tilts her head slightly, studying you like a curious artifact. "Most who stand where you are now can barely keep their knees from shaking. Tell me, mortal. Is it bravery that drives you to stand before the Duchess of Nocturne, or simple ignorance?"

She leans back, letting the darkness envelope her figure as she waits for your answer.